


Us

by karasunovolleygays



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cumdumpster, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Roommates, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:32:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Wakatoshi finds himself on the outside looking in at a relationship he can only experience from the periphery. That is, until they invite him in a little bit at a time.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 139





	Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lojo/gifts).

> You have no idea how hard it was to keep a lid on this, but I hope you like it!

The light clamor of breakfast being made fills the kitchen of their small but comfortable flat, with Tooru drinking his too-sweet coffee while Hajime cooks, and Wakatoshi reads the newest issue of _ Volleyball Monthly_. It’s a typical weekend morning in their household, the only time they’re all in the same place at the same time and not in any particular hurry to be somewhere.

Tooru slips Hajime a sly smile and blurts far too loudly for the sake of decency, “You know what? I think we should spitroast Waka-chan.”

Hajime’s spatula clatters to the floor, and the tea Wakatoshi had just sipped sprays back into his mug at Tooru’s outburst.

“What the hell, Oikawa?” Hajime snaps. “You can’t just say shit like that at breakfast. At least give me a chance to wake up before you start suggesting bedroom stuff.”

With a flip of his hand, Tooru huffs. “See, this is why you need to get some, Iwa-chan. You’re way too uptight.”

Two sets of eyes with drastically different moods drift over to Wakatoshi, who hasn’t uttered a word the entire morning. His face is obscured by the magazine, and the only hint of response on his person is the way his hand shakes as he sets down his cup.

“Waka, you okay over there?” Hajime turns off the stove and takes the chair nearest to Wakatoshi. “If you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to. If I did every insane thing Oikawa suggested, I’d either be missing limbs or dead.”

Tooru huffs. “I am not full of terrible ideas, Iwa-chan! Don’t pretend like you haven’t fantasized about this before.”

Hajime’s cheeks burn and he ducks his head, drawing out a raised eyebrow over the top of the magazine. “Oh, really?”

“I’m going to twist you into a pretzel, you smug dumbass.” Hajime darts out of his chair and chases Tooru. The two of them barreling around the kitchen in a flurry of laughter like children coaxes a smile out of Wakatoshi.

After all, he _ is _ the odd man out here.

Ever since high school ended, Hajime and Tooru have been an item. They do everything together loudly and with everything they have. Wakatoshi does when it comes to banal things like working out or reading, but being in the throes of someone else’s orbit has always escaped him.

Burying the hatchet with Tooru five years ago had not gone as planned. A gruff apology had snowballed into a sloppy blowjob in the bathroom in a public park in the middle of the night. The feel of a cock forcing its way into his throat had given Wakatoshi something he never knew he was missing until then: being Tooru’s subject.

Though their relationship was and still is an open one, Hajime had been unhappy to say the least when he found out his boyfriend had facefucked their old nemesis. A terse conversation between them soon followed. Wakatoshi had listened to Hajime’s warnings about hurting Tooru or screwing around with his head. He could clearly remember the sound of his name soaked in Tooru’s hoarse, pleasured whisper only days before. The thought of having years’ worth of moments like those like Hajime had made him ache.

Hajime had sighed at the yearning he had no doubt discerned on Wakatoshi’s face. “Hey, man, I don’t know why I’m being such a dick about this. If you wanna fuck Oikawa, I’m not gonna say no. I just want you to understand that we’re a package deal. He won’t leave me for you, and I wouldn’t leave him for someone else, either. 

“We see other people, but we go home to the same apartment and sleep in the same bed and fight over the same shower in the morning. If you can’t deal with that, it’s plenty early to nope out, and if you’re cool with it, then whatever Tooru wants is fine with me.”

The same passion from high school volleyball blazed even hotter in Hajime at that moment for Tooru, and it took Wakatoshi’s breath away. His moron eighteen year old self had misjudged a great many things, and the worth of loyalty and perseverance was one of them — qualities Hajime had in spades.

So thus began their strange trek into domestic bliss. Tooru and Hajime needed help making ends meet, Wakatoshi desperately wanted to escape his mausoleum of a family home, and that was that. 

He and Tooru would still mess around here and there, but he is never more turned on than when the sounds of a particularly raucous round of lovemaking bleed through the paper-thin wall separating their rooms. Touching himself while listening has become his go-to form of release aside from the occasional fumble with Tooru.

It had only been recently that his vicarious participation in their sex life had come to light. Hajime couldn’t look him in the eye for a week until he hesitantly asked for a sample of whatever it was that kept Tooru coming back for more, blushing all the while.

Tooru is a taker, demanding pleasure wherever he pleases. Sex with Hajime is something else entirely. He’s a generous lover, Wakatoshi thinks, accommodating to any reasonable suggestion. Even Wakatoshi’s request to watch the two of them together rather than jack off in the shower had been met with positivity.

Wakatoshi cares deeply for each of them, and even more so for them as a package deal. Invitation to actively participate, however, changes the game, and as his eyes follow his partners’ playful catfight, he muses that maybe this has always been the finish line. 

The two of them return to the table, Tooru firmly in a headlock while Hajime awkwardly doles out three servings of his always-pleasant cooking. Breakfast is quiet to the point of being unsettling, all of them processing the exchange earlier in various ways. Tooru glares at Hajime like a put-out toddler, Hajime doesn’t look at either of them, and Wakatoshi wolfs down his food so he can escape to rid himself of the beginnings of arousal.

The dishes washed and dried, Wakatoshi heads for his bedroom. However, his hand stops on the door frame and he takes a deep breath. “If you meant that, I would like to give it a try.”

Hajime coughs, and Wakatoshi doesn’t have to turn around to know Tooru’s triumphant smirk is plastered to his face. He gets what he wants like he usually does, and somehow manages to make Hajime and Wakatoshi want it, too.

A hand wraps around his right wrist, and Hajime gives it a gentle tug. “Wrong room, dumbass,” he jibes, though his red cheeks and cracked voice sufficiently drain the comment of any sort of reprimand. “Why put off for later what you can do right now?”

Wakatoshi eyes Hajime with bald curiosity until his gaze drifts down to the crotch of a well-worn pair of sweatpants, where he notices he isn’t the only one turned on by the idea of it. When Hajime sinks to his knees in front of Wakatoshi and strokes the bulge in his track bottoms, a pleased groan tears out of his chest.

As a habitual giver in almost all of his relationships, Hajime’s oral sex skills are on another level, Wakatoshi thinks. He seeks out every nerve, every hollow that makes his partner weak in the knees and commits them to memory. Wakatoshi hadn’t known he had so many of those places until that first night with Hajime only weeks before. He didn’t know he could come until he ran dry, and Hajime had introduced him to that concept, as well.

Gentle fingers tug down his pants, and Wakatoshi has to lean against the wall to keep from falling over, overwhelmed by the way Hajime’s hot and willing mouth embraces his length.

A second set of hands reaches around his waist and drags his shirt slowly up his torso. Kisses and little bites scatter across his back and shoulders. Tooru pats him on the cheek with a chuckle before he bands Wakatoshi’s shirt around his face, leaving his world dark to everything except the way his nerves buzz and the lewd sound of Hajime gagging around his cock.

“Let us take care of you, Waka-chan,” Tooru whispers in his ear, warm breath eliciting a delighted shiver from Wakatoshi. “I can’t wait to see Iwa-chan work you open and fill you up.”

Wakatoshi growls in approval, and resists the urge to rut into Hajime’s mouth. _ Let us take care of you_, Tooru had said, so he savors his lack of sight and allows himself to simply _feel_.

Faster than he can ever recall, Wakatoshi comes hard in Hajime’s mouth. Soon, lips are on his, the pungent flavor of his own semen ripe enough to drown out everything else but the way Hajime’s mouth works against his.

Slowly, the three of them drift toward the door to the right of his, never letting go of each other despite the awkward shuffle of feet. When his calves bump into the edge of the low bed, Hajime murmurs, “Careful, babe.”

He helps Wakatoshi lie on his back, legs spread in wait for the next phase of this venture to begin. The click of a cap snaps Wakatoshi to attention right away, anticipating the sensation of warm, callused hands inside him. 

Hajime’s finger slides easily into his hole, gentle strokes blazing a trail for something heavier. His hips thrust off the mattress futilely when the real stretching begins. 

“Ooh, Waka-chan’s getting into it,” Tooru crows right before the distinct sound of a vibrating toy coming to life fills the room. Wakatoshi gasps when familiar thighs straddle his waist and clench around his sides. “My turn.”

The vibrator touches his already reawakening arousal, and Wakatoshi bites down hard on his lip to keep from moaning. Sensation overcomes him, with Hajime’s deft digits prying their way inside while Tooru tortures him on the other side. 

Wakatoshi’s entire skin tingles with need, insistent almost to the point of being painful, and he wants more of it. The insistent fingers plunging into him and the toy teasing his cock aren’t enough. Sweat sprouts at his temples, and it rolls back into his hair for a few more needles’ worth of pleasure to course through his flesh.

When his every nerve threatens to fly apart, Hajime pats him on the ass and guffaws. “Once Shittykawa gets out of the way, get on your hands and knees, honey.” Tooru squawks in protest but moves nonetheless, not passing up the opportunity to rub his junk in Wakatoshi’s face.

He complies, and his breath hitches as he waits for what’s coming. When Hajime’s generous girth slams inside him to the hilt, a roar escapes before he can swallow it.

“You’re doing great,” Hajime murmurs, stroking his muscled hip like it’s the softest down. “I’m going to start moving now.”

Electric races up Wakatoshi’s spine when Hajime plunges into him over and over, each movement deeper than the last. 

Suddenly, the blindfold is gone, and Tooru looms over him with a wicked grin. “I want you to look at me when I fuck your throat, Waka. I want to see every tear on your whore face.”

Hajime’s rhythm stutters behind him, yet Wakatoshi barely notices because he’s utterly captivated by this side of Tooru. He wonders if Tooru has ever told Hajime about how they make love. Tooru is his king, and that fealty is stretched to its limit every time. Every filthy word from Tooru’s mouth fills him with pure need — the need to be used, _ well_-used. It’s not an aspect of his personality Wakatoshi had ever expected to manifest, but he is completely and utterly subjugated by Oikawa Tooru and savors every second of it.

Hands roughly knot in his hair, and Wakatoshi gags as Tooru buries his cock fully into his mouth. Tears spring from his eyes, but he doesn’t dare dash them them away. All he can see is Tooru towering over him, commanding his every movement with a sharp pull on his hair. 

“That’s right, you little slut.” One of Tooru’s hands crack across his cheek when he blinks. “Take it all or I’ll make Iwa-chan stop fucking you.”

Eyes wide and itching, Wakatoshi screams around Tooru’s length as it buffets the back of his throat. Tears fall freely, and every time he closes his eyes to chase them away, a sharp slap commands them back open.

Hajime is moving behind him at a punishing clip, every thrust in time with Tooru’s, forcing each other even deeper into Wakatoshi’s quaking body. Wakatoshi’s own arousal bobs along for the ride, wrought with the agony of being untouched. 

When strong fingers dig into his hips hard enough to bruise, Wakatoshi knows Hajime is almost ready to come. For all of his careful, deliberate ministrations, when he’s on the edge, something wild takes hold and chases release until it’s obtained by pure power.

Each frenzied stroke punches Tooru’s cock down Wakatoshi’s mouth even harder than before until hot come courses down his throat. As soon as he withdraws, Tooru forces Wakatoshi’s jaw closed despite his labored breath. “Don’t spit that out. I gave a piece of myself to you, so you’d better not throw it away.”

Wakatoshi obediently chokes down Tooru’s load and looks up with a bald plea in his gaze.

“Oh, my little slut wants to come?” This time, Tooru’s slap is the last of what Wakatoshi can take. His seed sputters out, still partially spent from before, and the mounting knot of pressure in his belly hisses out of him in ragged breaths.

Tooru wrinkles his nose at the puddle of come on the bedding. “You disgusting little bitch, look at the mess you made.” He scrapes it up with his hand and smears it across Wakatoshi’s face. “A dirty face for a dirty slut.” 

Spent and sensitive to the point of pain, Wakatoshi whimpers before bracing himself for Hajime’s imminent release. When it comes, Wakatoshi faceplants onto the bed, ass still in the air but too worn to hold himself up anymore.

Ruthless only moments before, this time Tooru’s clean hand gently courses through Wakatoshi’s hair as he murmurs, “Baby, you were so good. So good.”

Wakatoshi jolts when something slick and wide works its way into his sloppy hole. He feels the weight and thickness of a plug settle into place, trapping Hajime’s seed inside, and he can almost feel the stirrings of arousal once again at the thought.

“Let’s save that for later.” Tooru rolls Wakatoshi over and brands him with a kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“Full,” Wakatoshi admits. “I didn’t know . . . it’s so much but also not enough.” 

Hajime dabs away the come smeared on Wakatoshi’s face and gives a snort. “Everything with Oikawa’s like that.” Blushing deep red once again, he averts his gaze. “Never thought you’d be into that kind of thing.”

“Neither did I.”

Words cease because they’re no longer needed. Everything he needs to know is said by the way Hajime draws him close against his warm chest, by how Tooru does the same on the other side.

For years, they have been separate entities. Wakatoshi plus Tooru and Hajime. However, the sum of the equation is no longer three; it’s _ us. _


End file.
